


Control

by SuperbiousEucatastrophe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Internal Monologue, with a bit of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 16:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperbiousEucatastrophe/pseuds/SuperbiousEucatastrophe
Summary: Mycroft Holmes has everything under control. Apart from his eating habits.





	Control

Mycroft Holmes is perfectly in control of everything around him. 

It has always been like this and it always will be. It is one of the longest-running constants he has. 

Another constant are the insults of his younger brother he endures since their childhood But he doesn’t listen to him. he never has. There are far more important things than sentiments. Not that he would have ever lost control on them. No, Mycroft Holmes keeps his emotions in check, just like every other aspect of his life. Almost. 

*

“How’s the diet?”

_ “Fine.”  _ Mycroft tries not to let it get to him. It doesn’t. Well, yes it does. And Sherlock knows that which is why he is mentioning it in the first place. Mycroft has a weakness exposed to everyone who sees him the first time and he is very aware of that.

His inability to regulate his calorie count has to be eradicated. He buys himself an expensive treadmill. He doesn’t want to be seen jogging outside because people will stare so he does it at home. 

It starts with ten minutes a day. Then twenty. Then thirty. Step by step he wants to lose pounds, get rid of this last imperfection he has. 

And people notice. 

He gets compliments from employees. He gets told he looks healthier. Mycroft was never the one to care about compliments but these compliments just show him that his little project was successful. He already lost ten pounds. He can lose more.

 

*

 

He stops eating cake. 

It’s no hardship. Not as much of a hardship as he had thought, at least. And he has read all about this pastry. He has read about the risks his daily slice of cake would put him under. He has read it all: Type II Diabetes, Heart Deceases… no, it’s better for his health and his future if he cuts it down. 

After the cake, he cuts down on the sugar in his tea. They all say it’s better if he cuts down unnecessary calories and drinking his tea with or without sugar shouldn’t make that much of a difference. 

It goes well. He has lost twenty pounds now. Mrs. Hudson commented on it the last time he has been at Sherlock’s. His brother had just snorted, but Mycroft knows that this means that he couldn’t contradict her.

He is 156 pounds and has a BMI of 20.2. Every diagram tells him that’s normal. He keeps up his diet, he keeps up his sports routine. It makes him healthy, doesn’t it? he can eat more now, but not too much. After a time he goes to the settings on his calorie counting app. He puts it to  _ keep weight.  _

This will do the trick. He finally feels complete. 

 

*

 

Until the gala. 

He has spent six hours there, standing and smiling. He drank much of champagne and a few appetizers. Mycroft is counting the calories on his way home. He knows them by heart. One glass of champagne equals 95 calories. He drank four glasses. If he rounds, this means 400 calories. He ate appetizers. 500 calories for the  _ bruschette _ , about 400 for the cake. And he had a latte macchiato. Another 220. 1620 calories. And he has had breakfast as well. And lunch. This is not acceptable. He will not lose control again. He will not get fat again. 

So he throws up the cake. 

It’s easy, really. Nothing a finger and enough determination can’t do. he feels the acid coming up his throat. It’s disgusting. he will never do this again. He will not lose control ever again. 

The following day he skips lunch. His colleagues were at the gala. They know how much he’s eaten. They will think he is bolting again. But he isn’t. So he just drinks his tea and hopes they aren’t staring at him. He feels like they are.

 

*

 

Skipping lunch is a ritual now. He looks at all those incompetent people, even Sherlock, requiring sustenance at noon. He is superior to them. In intellect, in food, in  _ everything.  _ He has lost 32 pounds so far. His BMI tells him he is underweight. But this is ridiculous. He knows he has a long way to go. He stops looking at the BMI eventually. It’s just lies, anyway. 

1300 calories are way too much daily. He knows this. He has to do better. 1000 should do the trick. In the end, he settles for 999 maximum because four digits are a bit much. 

 

*

He has lost fifty pounds. The compliments have stopped. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t need this kind of motivation to finally get to his goal. 

*

“I worry about you.”

This sentence puts Mycroft off and he frowns. He isn’t sure if Sherlock ever said something like that before. He isn’t the type for caring. Both of them aren’t. But he stands there, his body language suggesting he really  _ is  _ worried.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Eating Disorders can be-”

“It’s  _ not  _ an Eating Disorder.” he makes clear and sighs. Of course, Sherlock would want to ruin this for him. He is finally better than him, improving, healthier. But he will not let Sherlock win. Not this time.

“Mycroft.”

“No.” He leaves 221B Baker Street. He has no idea. 

 

*

 

Mycroft eats an apple for breakfast, like every morning. An apple in the morning, a piece of vital bread in the evening. And much of water to make sure his stomach doesn’t make too many noises. He’s got this. He has it under control. 

 

*

 

“I can’t believe you of all people-”

“Shut up.” he looks at the IV in his arm. And the gastric tube. “Put that thing out.” he says almost appalled. They are trying to ruin this for him. Of course. He doesn’t want to get overweight again. 

“You are severely malnourished,” John exclaimed. “They have to-”

“Not without my consent. I am pressing charges if they don’t-”

“You are  _ sick,  _ Mycroft.”

He doesn’t believe John. He is fine. He is in control.

 

*

 

They want him to demonstrate how well he eats. He doesn’t want to. he doesn’t want people staring at him while stuffing unnecessary calories into himself. It would be humiliating. And he just  _ can’t.  _ He can’t  _ just eat.  _ It’s almost ridiculous how people are pretending it’s that easy. They don’t give him an apple, they give him mashed potatoes with a sauce and some meat. Six hundred calories at least. Five hundred eighty-six if he had calculated it right. And he has. He knows he has. 

He gets sick just thinking about it. He can’t. He won’t. He’s worked too hard for this.

 

*

 

“You need to get treated.” 

The concern of his brother almost makes him laugh. Almost. His BMI is 15.6. He is ashamed when he thinks about the fact that he is proud of it. 

They are standing in his apartment, Mycroft is about to go to work.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You know it is.”

“You are merely upset I’m finally working on it. No room for your childish teasing anymore.”

“Do you hear yourself  _ talk?” _

Mycroft sighs. He gets up and wants to go to work, but faints. 

Hospital again. 

He slowly starts to realize he has a problem. But he can’t just tell people that. He is Mycroft Holmes, he is perfect. He is in control. He doesn’t need treatment. He is better than this. 

And how could these experts help him if he can’t even help  _ himself?  _ No. No need for this. no need to cause unnecessary drama. 

 

*

 

“Please, Myc…”

His mother looks at him in utter despair, not sure what else to say to the frail person lying in front of her. 

Mycroft clenches his jaw. His mother is asking him to seek help. Sherlock has called her to his surprise. He promises her to try. For her if not for him. But he makes sure to tell her he will stop whenever he wants to. He is still in control. 

 

*

 

The therapist seems to just nod. He doesn’t know what this is supposed to get him but he keeps going for his mother. It’s not easy. It will never be again. He realizes he has a problem. But there is a treatment to get rid of that too and Mycroft loves solving problems.

 

*

 

He has gained ten pounds. It still hurts to see the bigger number on the scale. He doesn’t like it. But he will fight. 

To be in control of his eating habits again. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I have never had an eating disorder luckily and I don't know any people that have so I am sorry if this is not too accurate. I don't know myself why I have written this. If you want to, you can leave me a comment to elaborate on the problem or give me room to improve.


End file.
